BOWS OF SEPTEMBER

"Dad still working on the boat? the boy asked.

His younger brother, Jon Jon, had his head between the musty, yellow curtain and the window "He's got the motor scattered all over the driveway."

"Guess we ain't fishing today."

"Guess not."

"What you want to do?"

"We could have another battle," Jon Jon said, referring to the plastic, green army men, complete with tanks, ships, and airplanes scattered across the floor, the bed, and the dressers.

"I'm tired of being inside," the boy said.

"Think we could get the bows past Mom?" Jon Jon's eyes popped and his neck straightened. Of all the outdoor activities they shared, shooting the old recurves excited him most. "I'll get them out. You watch for Mom."

Their mother never stopped them from heading to the large field behind the trailer--she never stopped them from being boys--she just lectured them for fifteen minutes each time about some kid they'd never heard of who had lost a finger or broke an arm or worse. Sometimes, that fifteen minutes drifted into dinner and the adventure had to be postponed.

A thin wall separated each half of the double-wide trailer. Every creak, every whisper of cloth against the doorways echoed throughout the glorified tin can. Their mother divided her time between cooking, cleaning, hanging laundry--and reading the bible. If scouring a pot, they had a chance. Sitting quiet reading God's words, they might as well not even try.

The boy peeked around the corner to check her reading chair--clear. He waved for Jon Jon to hurry.

The door squeaked as Jon Jon began to open it. The boy pushed his brother through and let it slam as they descended the two steps. From inside, muffled by the door, they heard their mother yell something about being careful. They pretended not to hear.

Without breaking stride, Jon Jon handed the boy one of the bows and half the arrows as they raced across the graveled road and into the short grass of the prairie. If they ran far enough, they would reach the hills where they could find the big game--rabbits, grouse, and, if they were lucky, a coyote. They had never actually killed anything with their bows. In fact, they'd only ever shot at one or two cottontails.

They always began with grand aspirations of shooting a mule deer or even a rattlesnake. They always ended up shooting cans or some other piece of trash a careless camper had let blow into the prairie.

They headed for the hay bale first. After sticking a few, they moved on to fence posts and other inanimate objects. The boy had just nailed an old milk jug with his third arrow and began digging in the grass for the second one. The first had overflown by fifteen yards. Jon Jon promised to find it if his brother allowed him to shoot all six arrows.

A glint under the grass four yards to the left caught the boy's attention. He glanced up to see if Jon Jon had found number one. What he saw quickened his heart. He dropped to the ground, raked through the grass with his fingers and yanked the arrow free. He almost dropped it trying to nock it.

Stooped and facing a pile of tumbleweeds, Jon Jon's fingers tightened on the bowstring, his elbow cocked--ready. The boy's younger brother pulled back and released.

The cedar arrow arched through the air almost as if suspended. And then it disappeared into the tumbleweeds. Dust and branches and a ball of fur exploded from under the weeds. A cottontail kicked the arrow five feet into the air and raced right for the boy. He drew back, following the wounded prey. Only a few yards now. He released. The shot, one he could never duplicate, one he would always remember, stopped the rabbit like a stone hitting sand. It shuttered and then lay still.

An image of the first goose the boy killed flashed through his thoughts. His younger brother had not been goose hunting yet.

"You got it, Steve. You got it. Great shot." Jon Jon's eyes flashed back and forth between his brother and the dead rabbit. His breath trembled from the run.

"You got him first," the boy said.

Jon Jon's smile could have turned back a storm. "Let's go show Dad."